Smoke & Mirrors
by steller birdie
Summary: H/D slash. On his birthday Harry gets an unwelcome present. Strong R. Please R


Smoke & Mirrors  
  
The night was cool and soft, Hogwarts loomed in the distance and he had to take a moment and   
breathe a sigh of relief. To be back. To be home. The supple wind blew through Harry's hair,   
ruffling it in every direction. He wasn't supposed to be out that night (though to be perfectly   
honest he wasn't supposed to be out any night, save Hogwarts specified days). But as it was the   
beginning of his sixth year of magic study and his sixteenth birthday, Hagrid had obtained   
special permission for him to be out a tad late. This was later. Hermione and Ron had thrown up   
quite a commotion in the Gryffindor common room. He was appreciative, especially of all the   
gifts that everyone had bestowed on him. He received chocolate frogs from Ron   
(which unfortunately for Harry contained a Dumbledore card, he already had five in his   
possession), A new scarf (red) from Mrs. Weasly, A little journal from Hermione   
(she had bewitched it herself so that it gave daily quote by the most famous of wizards,   
reminded him about his homework and flashed brilliant colors all day long). This birthday had   
started out remarkably well, which Ron reminded him could be too good to be true.   
  
  
With all his friends around him, only one was missing. Hagrid was watching over the grounds, as   
their had been a remarkable number of people sneaking out and having parties in the Forbidden   
Forest. "Parties for heavens sake," Hermione had said "Serves them right if them get eaten by   
something dreadful!" Harry silently sniggered and Ron inaudibly agreed. Feeling terrible that   
his job interfered with his friends, Hagrid told Harry he would have to come by his home later   
to retrieve his present. He was only too happy to do this, as lately Hermione was becoming   
prone to kisses, which made him increasing nervous, as he wasn't aware quite how he felt about   
her. Walking along the muddied paths to Hagrid's door, Harry as a peace, until he was pushed   
from behind.  
  
  
With a loud thud, Harry Potter's body landed on the soggy ground. "Happy Birthday!" said a   
voice from behind him. He had no reason to turn, to figure out to whom the voice belonged, that   
was easy. It could be no one else, besides Draco Malfoy. "Did you have a wonderful day? Was it   
so perfect?" he sneered. Harry pushed up form the ground to look at his enemy; his robes and   
new scarf were drenched in mud and clung to his lean body. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry   
spat in a whisper. Why did beautiful days have to be ruined? "I have a present for you, don't   
you want it?" he asked.  
  
  
His first though was to say no, to rush off towards Hagrid's shack. But even though he was not   
doing so now, Harry could almost hear the laugh radiating from Draco's throat. It was like a   
guttural cry of an animal, and it never failed to increase his heartbeat. He could not believe   
his own ears, as he heard himself proclaim "Alright." It was such a little word, so insignificant   
in the grand scheme of lexis. He looked into the eyes of Malfoy, which always seemed so devoid  
of life. It was not so this time. His eyes danced with a quiet light and surged with intensity.   
For a moment Harry swore he saw kindness in those eyes, his thoughts proved erroneous has the   
smirk that so often accompanied trouble sprang to his thin lips. "Alright" he said, mocking   
Harry in the way only he could.  
  
  
That was the last thing that was "alright" for some time. Draco walked silently towards Harry,   
covering the distance in between them in a flash. He wrapped his arm around Harry's neck and   
pulled. The chocking sensation was nothing compared to the blunt force of the body pushing   
Harry's down to the earth. He struggled to speak, but could not. His visage slammed into the   
ground, which gave the appearance of being soft but felt hard and bitter underneath his cheek.   
Harry's tongue flicked the sensitive spot on his bottom lip, and tasted blood. Metal, that's   
what it tasted like, and for a moment t didn't his him what Draco was doing until he felt the   
sharp wind fleet over his bare buttocks.   
  
  
He tried to scream, but instead of a sound all he felt was copper and dirt, as Draco pushed his   
head deeper into the yielding earth. Draco was rough with him, though once his mind had a handle   
on what was going on, he expected no less. Swiftly, he felt as if a dagger had pierced through   
his skin. His eyes filed with tears no one saw, and screams that no one heard. Draco moved, in   
fluid graceful movements, with such pace Harry had no clue how long it had been. Soon, a white   
hot flash filled Harry and he heard Draco gasp, what he surprised, thought Harry idly? Then as   
summarily as he had torn into him, Draco pulled out.   
  
  
So sore, pain unimaginable stung his backside. But still, once let up by Draco he turned,   
sitting on his rear to look on Draco. "What was that?" Harry asked, though he knew perfectly   
well what had happened. He had been violated, but he so desperately wanted to hear what Draco   
had to say. "Hocus pocus. Just smoke and mirrors, Potter. I though you would have known that."   
He said with a shrug. He stood there only for a second longer, eyes still dancing, face still   
smiling cruelly. Then he was gone. Harry pulled on his pants and ran towards his room. He could   
not face Hagrid, not anyone tonight.  
  
  
Then memories of running back to his room were a blur. He couldn't stop the hot tears from   
running down his cheeks. He was surprised when asked the password, that he even remembered what   
it was. He did not change. He went to bed. He did not care that his clothed sullied his sheets;  
much the way Draco had debased him. He sniffled, trying to stop the tears like a river that   
flowed from his eyes. "Harry, is that you?" asked Ron from the other side of the room. He   
cleared his throat. "Yes, Ron. It's nothing, just a small cold. Go back to sleep" he said,   
rather convincingly (though it did not take much convincing, Ron was half asleep).  
  
  
Harry closed his eyes, and tried to fall into a sleep that would not come. All he saw in the   
darkness provided by shielded eyes was a projection of all that he had been through that night.  
The pain was so bad as he lay on his back, that he turned to lay on his stomach. He dwelt on   
the pain, because somewhere deep in the darkest corners of himself he knew that he felt, only   
for an instant intrigue. It scared him so, but more so even that was that Draco had finally   
triumphed over him in a small way. For though Draco could not be sure of Harry's opinion of   
what had happened, he knew that Harry would be thinking of him. That in his waking hours,   
and possibly sleeping hours as well, Draco would be king over Harry's mind. The wind blew   
roughly against the window pane and sung a song that only Harry could hear, "Just smoke and   
mirrors, Potter" 


End file.
